


Stay

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, No Strings Attached, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: “I don't.” Boris replied placidly. “Despite what you claim to want, this isn't just sex to me. You will never be just sex to me."





	Stay

Nothing on but the radio  
Oh  
Let it play  
Say you need to leave  
But I know you want to stay.  
-Drake

The rain pelted harshly against the windows, drowning out the soft piano concerto that seemed to somehow emanate from the walls. The northeaster pounding Long Island was everything promised and more. Gale force winds beat against Shadow Pond, howled across the courtyard and whipped the waves in the bay until they stood twice their normal height. Dark clouds blanketed the sun, blotting out every trace of light.

Boris’ bedroom it was dim. Possibly the darkest Hank could remember seeing it, not that he was paying any attention to the light in the room. He was close, so close, hands clutching at Boris’ broad shoulders above him. Every sense was saturated--the caress of skin touching skin, the taste of cigars on his tongue, the crisp scent of his aftershave, the sound of their breathing. Fire burned in his veins as he buried his hands in Boris’ hair, and then he was flying, falling, coming. 

“H-Hank.” Boris murmured harshly against his partner's lips. 

Hank crushed their mouths together once more, egging the other man on with his body. Boris was trembling above him, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, blue eyes staring into him like only Boris could. Hank was amazed at how incredible the sex was. It was raw and rough and almost desperate in its intensity. Boris seemed to anticipate what he needed before even he was aware of it, hands traveling Hank's body with an expertise that no one else had ever come close to. 

His hands slid up Hank's thighs, hitching them up and closer as he slightly adjusted his angle. Hank arched into his movements, totally at the mercy of the sensations continuing to overwhelm him. He wasn't sure if he'd called Boris’ name out loud or in his head, but a moment later Boris was joining him in climax, panting and holding Hank in his arms. For a few precious moments everything was perfect. He was addicted to how he felt when they were together like this, how the details just melted away until nothing was left but a feeling of rightness. The weight of Boris’ body pressing into his, the warmth of his breath on Hank's neck. If he could make this moment last forever, he would. Just the way Boris looked at him would be worth never seeing another patient, never looking at another face aside from the one looking at him like he mattered. Like he was important.But that look was a lie. It was just sex.

Slowly Hank became more aware of the moments passing, the music playing, the rain against the window. The warm glow he was cocooned in began to fade. Every time they fell into bed together it went the same way. Hank initiated it. He would send a message-- Today? Boris never said no. He would send back a time for them to meet in his bedroom. They didn't talk, just tore at one another's clothes until they were breathless and sated. Then Boris would get out of bed, and Hank would leave. It wasn't perfect, but nothing ever was. Not talking about it stopped things from becoming complicated. There was no ‘where is this going’ or ‘are we exclusive’. Avoiding the topic meant they didn't have to discuss how ethically problematic it was: doctor and patient, boss and subordinate, landlord and tenant. They didn't have to think about all the ways this could end badly.

Why wasn't Boris getting out of bed? Their breathing had returned to normal and Hank was starting to notice a chill in the room. If Boris wasn't getting up, he would have to. A frisson of irritation lanced through him. They were in the man's house, in his bed. Hank was already at a disadvantage without Boris spectating as he rushed around the bedroom naked, scrambling to find his clothes and leave. Hank moved towards the edge of the bed. Wasn't being dismissed post orgasm enough? He’d never actually said Hank should leave, but--

“Stay.” Boris suggested softly, running a finger down the inside of his companion’s wrist. “It's miserable out there.”

Hank's mood darkened. He didn't want his unofficial visitor pass extended out of some misguided sense of obligation. “I don't want to overstay my welcome.”

Boris’ lips tilted into a frown as he watched his friend's jaw clench. Why Hank was so mercurial around him but so pleasant to everyone else was a frustrating puzzle he couldn't quite seem to solve. “I’m not in the habit of offering things I'm not amenable to.”

“I just need some space.” Hank tried to force one of his usual assuring smiles. 

Boris lifted an eyebrow at his friend's brittle grimace. “We're neighbors, I hope you don't need too much of it.” 

“Tenant. I'm your tenant.” Hank corrected as he scanned the floor for his discarded boxers. They were hanging off a lamp half way across the palatial suite. Of course they were.

“Closest friend.” Boris continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

“Doctor.” Hank insisted, attempting to remind them both of all the lines they'd crossed.

“Lover.” Boris’ tongue slid slowly over the word. Hank looked at the hand that had at some point encircled his wrist, up a long arm, past broad shoulders, angular jaw, soft lips. Bright blue eyes bored into him, demanding an answer.

He tore his gaze away. “I should go.”

“But you don't want to.” Boris replied matter-of-factly.

A moment of silence passed between them. Hank's shoulders sagged slightly as he exhaled his answer. “No.”

“Then why?” 

“Because that's how this works. I text you, we meet here, then after we-” Hank turned to look out the window. “I leave. We don't talk about it. I don't stay.” 

“And why is that?” Boris pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “We've been doing this for six months and still I can't seem to figure out why you run away every time I use the facilities.”

Hank whipped back around to face him. “You're the one who left after the first time. Didn't say anything, just walked away.”

“I was turning on the shower for us. You were gone when I returned. Then you came back for more sex and left when it was over. I assumed that was all you wanted.” His words were clipped. “I have never been able to deny you.”

Hank dragged a hand frustratedly through his hair. “What you and I want doesn't matter, Boris. There are other things to consider.”

“What is there to consider if we both want more? Life is short, you and I both know that firsthand. What you and I want is the only thing that matters… If we want the same thing.” His voice was beguiling, almost hypnotic.

“Maybe I like what we have.” Hank insisted defensively. It wasn't until the words were out that he realized how untrue they were. 

He hated staring at his phone, trying to decide if he should text Today? or if it was too soon. He hated the rush to leave when they were done. He hated thinking about all the reasons they couldn't be more than friends with benefits. He hated the way he felt when he saw Boris, how his pulse quickened and his chest tightened. He hated lying awake at night knowing everything he wanted was so close and still completely out of reach. 

“I don't.” Boris replied placidly. “Despite what you claim to want, this isn't just sex to me. You will never be just sex to me. I want more, Hank. I want you, and not in some half measure. I'll ask one final time. If you're not interested, I won't bring it up again. Will you stay?”

Silence spanned between them. The omnipresent piano music was drowned out by the savage beating of rain against the windows.

“How do I stay without losing my morals?” Hank finally asked.

“Do you really think a tawdry affair is somehow more noble than a real relationship?” Boris answered. “The lines have been crossed. Why not enjoy the freedom?”

“You make it sound so easy. What about the future? What if there's a conflict of interest?” He questioned, only slightly distracted as Boris’ warm thumb began rubbing the inside of his wrist again.

“I'm not asking you to promise me forever, Hank. I'm only asking for this afternoon.” Boris was looking at him with that look, the one that seemed to be reserved just for him. 

Hank shook his head, then inched closer to the man beside him. “There's no such thing as ‘one afternoon’ with you.”

Boris found himself smiling as he leaned towards the doctor. “But you'll stay?”

Their lips met, a soft brush of skin on skin. 

“Yeah. I'll stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been hit by three Northeasters in the last three weeks, which prompted this. Getting back in the swing of writing!


End file.
